


Strip Phrases

by AdelineAround



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom RK900, Cunnilingus, Flavored Lube, Frottage, M/M, Nipple Play, Plastic Protective Coochie Strips, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Power Dynamics, Power Play, Simultaneous Orgasm, Teasing, Trans Male Character, Trans Upgraded Connor | RK900, Vaginal Sex, top allen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 07:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelineAround/pseuds/AdelineAround
Summary: Captain Cain Allen knows an android's shutdown code is the first thing to try during a mission nowadays. What he doesn't know is that RK900 wants him use it on him during sex. Things get freaky in the SWAT locker rooms shortly after.





	Strip Phrases

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaddlingDingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaddlingDingo/gifts).



> This is a follower-thank you fic, requested by Dingo. I had a ton of fun working on this whilst in the midst of my writer's block.  
> Thanks to [Migi](https://twitter.com/tdcloud_writes) for giving our man Captain Allen the first name of Cain, and [Yougei](https://twitter.com/yougei_) for coming up with the protective android coochie strips idea.  
> [the terms used for RK900’s genitalia are: slot, (front) hole, folds, etc.]

Captain Cain Allen is aware that androids have a so-called deactivation code, where it renders them incapacitated, but more a semblance of paralysis or mock death in a human. He is, and he’s tried to use it multiple times throughout his career, with failed attempts on most deviant androids he and his team was assigned to take down.

Sometimes, Allen finds it futile to try using a shutdown code first, when dangerous androids like the PL600 called Daniel were all but affected by it. CyberLife had sent in a negotiator instead, another android that was supposed to deescalate the situation. Instead, the Connor model had thrown itself and Daniel off the roof. The hostage, Emma Phillips, was safe, but the androids were toast, too damaged to take in for evidence and analysis to prevent further deviancies. Still, procedure is still procedure to be followed in the SWAT. Out of the countless missions he’s been on, Allen has found that said code has had success only a handful of times. He figures he should set a meeting with his superiors soon because, after the fruitful android revolution, it may no longer be necessary for _humans_ to use an otherwise ineffective deactivation code.

However, when RK900, newly deviant and yet accepted into the SWAT team due to new and effective android rights, saunters up and out of his charging station in the corner of Allen’s office, presenting Cain with his shutdown code, the man stares at him in dumbfoundment.

“Maybe you can repeat that for me, RK.” Allen shortens RK900’s model number to keep from getting tongue-tied. He does not misspeak often, but it is for simplicity’s sake to nickname the android accordingly. “You want me to do what to you?”

RK900 repeats the sentence he had proposed just a second ago, “I would like you to use my partial shutdown code while we initiate post-mission intercourse.”

Allen shakes his head at that. Surely, his ears must be hearing things wrong. Perhaps, he should go to an otolaryngologist and make sure he will still be able to listen to smooth alternative by the age of sixty-nine.

“Do you really only associate sex with missions accomplished, RK?” Cain asks, immediately regretting that his past self had allowed him to take RK900 for a spin; ruse him up sexually and fuck his mouth until the android connected sex with after-mission tension release. 

RK900 looks unphased by Allen’s jeering question, only nodding subtly before he replies, “Only because I do these things exclusively with you after each mission, which took effect on March 24th, 2039 at 0319 hours--”

Allen holds up one of his hands, as if to stop RK900 from speaking any more. The android immediately stops his speech, jaw shutting with a soft clack of mixed plastic-porcelain molars. “So, you’re asking me to use your half shutdown code. There’s no guarantee it’ll work on you. We’ve seen, time and time again, that it doesn’t work on deviants.”

The android does not respond right away, taking a few seconds to, supposedly, structure together a reason for the captain. RK900’s LED cycles a bright gold, blinking before going back to its normal cyan hue. Allen takes that time to cross his arms over his chest, exhaling through his nose as he prepares himself for the unknown.

Finally, RK900 speaks, “A week ago, I was sent to CyberLife for a few upgrades, amongst other installments. I assure you that the code will work more as a command-and-control than a complete shutdown and deactivation. You will be able to control me how you would have before I became deviant.”

“CyberLife is still in operation?” Allen raises his brows. “Why?” And why would you want me to control you, he didn’t say.

“Not in the way that it was before the revolution,” explains RK900. “The RK200 known as Markus and his advisors have since taken over production lines, and have opened up the central towers for androids who need or request installments.”

“You said you were sent to CyberLife for your upgrades,” Allen reiterates. “Who sent you?”

“Connor did,” RK900 mumbles so softly that Allen almost strains to hear him. “He told me about the upgrades he received there, and I wanted some, too.”

“Connor… he’s your predecessor.”

“Yes.”

“Why did he contact you?”

“What do you mean?” RK900 blinks, giving the man a confused expression. Like this, he could almost pass as human. “Connor is my predecessor. It would be foolish if I did not talk to him every once in a while, so I may learn from him.”

“Learn from him,” Allen repeats, still not sure where this is going. What else did Connor advise RK900 to get an upgrade on?

RK900 shakes his head. “I mean to say, I talk to him, so I may learn from his mistakes and not repeat them myself. In this way, I am the superior model.”

Ah, now it makes sense, or at least Allen deems it sensible. After all, he is only half listening to RK900 ramble on about his older robot brother of sorts. Cain’s mind is fixed on the upgrades that the android had opted for at the new and improved CyberLife. What could they possibly be? And _why_ would RK900 mention them in conjunction with his partial deactivation code? It boggles Allen’s mind, and he does not get boggled easily.

“RK,” As soon as he calls the android, RK900 shuts up. “Get to the point.”

“Right.” RK900 glances down at the floor, as if he is collecting himself. Then, he looks up, stands more confidently, or seems to. “I want you to use my partial shutdown code when I get too overwhelmed in our consummation, whenever that may be.”

 _Too overwhelmed._ Allen leans back in his office chair, the words swirling around him before it hits him full force.

“You want to test your new upgrade while we fuck,” Cain attempts not to cringe as he conglomerates their whole conversation into one sentence. If only they didn’t talk in a circle to one another. In the field, RK900 is a great team member, communicating directly to keep everyone safe. Here, in the comfort of Allen’s sole presence though, the android can drive him crazy with his roundabout way of talking. Or, perhaps, it is Allen who makes their dialogue complicated, but he refuses to think further about it.

“Correct, captain. Or whenever you see it fit. I would not oppose you if you started off our scene with my code, either,” RK900 answers Allen’s unintended authoritative tone, stock-still.

“And if I do something you don’t want?”

“I would not hesitate to terminate the programming immediately, via manual overdrive.”

“So, you would still have control of yourself, in a sense.”

“Ultimately, yes. You are correct, captain.”

Allen sighs. He cannot believe this, how deviant this _deviant_ can be. He wonders how he got to this point, but at the same time, his subconscious knows just how they ended here. As he opens his mouth to inquire further about what RK900 is expecting of him, someone knocks at the door, the rap against the wood pounding to the already awkward silence between he and RK900.

“What?” Allen says, looking towards the door.

“Another mission assigned to us, boss.” One of Allen’s teammates says, as he recognizes him from his tone of voice. “You might want to take a look at what we’ve got on hand.”

“I’ll be out in a second,” says Allen, focusing back on RK900 again when their comrade leaves them be. “Guess your wish will be granted sooner than later,” Cain quips.

“Yes, sir.” RK900’s entire face brightens with an emotion that Allen reads as excitement.

He sighs again, standing up and out of his seat to head for the office door. “Well?” Allen tilts his head towards the hallway as he opens the office to the rest of the facility. “Let’s get going.”

RK900 has never looked so happy going into a SWAT mission.

* * *

That happy look is wiped off RK900’s face as soon as the mission begins to go awry. The plan that Allen had put into place is not effective enough to take down the suspect, and the man seems exhausted by the end of the pursuit and arrest. Perhaps today is not the right date for such biocomponent tests, though RK900 has hoped otherwise. Even he, an android who does not tire like humans, feels a little frazzled at his wire ends.

But there is an underlying current of restlessness, RK900 can sense it just by looking at the captain. And not just Allen himself; the whole SWAT team looks on-edge after the mission as they discreetly travel back to the headquarters. He sits in the back of the van, LED going round and round in a cool blue shade. His eyes latch onto any movement, systems still on high alert from the almost-failed mission not too long ago. RK900 notices the way Allen keeps bouncing his leg on the van floor, olive eyes pointing straight towards the front of the cabin, as if he is the one driving the vehicle. His lips are pursed in a thin line, his jaw clenching in a stressed rhythm.

RK900 wants to get out of his seat, bring himself to Allen, and ask if there is anything he can do for the captain. That is how it has always went when the man needed to come down from a taxing event. However, now is not the time nor the place to be doing such a thing, as Allen would probably blow his cool if RK900 pulled off such a stunt in front of the whole team. So, he stays put, staring at Allen longingly throughout the trip.

It takes them almost an hour to get back to headquarters, and by then, everyone is acting antsy. They amble out of the van as soon as it is parked, all but rushing to get the armor off and the weapons stowed safely away.

RK900 pays no mind to anyone else than Allen, eyeing the captain from across the room as the man undresses and heads to the showers. The android stays where he is though, opting for his specialized cleaning wipes instead. He strips of his gear, ridding himself of his dark undershirt and pants as well, before folding them in perfect squares. Because he is an android, he is grateful that there is no need for him to wear things like boxers or briefs. His boots and socks go last, leaving him as naked as when he was first created.

The rest of the crew are either in the showers still, or they completely ignore RK900 as they dress and get the hell out of dodge. No one wants to stay longer than they have to here. No one wants to make their workplace a second home… unless the dock one goes into standby mode is quite literally placed in the captain’s office. RK900 opens a fresh, new packet of sanitation wipes. They’re nothing special, nothing fancy, just the type that is membrane material safe so RK900’s plastic endoskeleton will not accidentally melt from harsh chemicals. He starts with his face first, rubbing off the thin layer of dirt from his cheeks and forehead. He brings it along his neck, craning it so the wipe can catch all the angles, then smooths it down to his shoulders. He does not even notice the pair of lustrous, green eyes observing his every action until there is a clatter of a locker door banging against the others.

Allen, though no one quite looks as great in fluorescent lighting, is absolutely gorgeous standing in nothing but a towel around his waist. Droplets of water still cling to the man’s alabaster skin, catching the poor light and reflecting them in a way that comes off as tiny crystals. He is laser focused on RK900, locker wide open yet untouched. Nobody seems to pay any mind, but RK900 does.

RK900 takes another wipe, crumpling up the used one and setting it on the bench next to him. He lets Allen ogle as his hand makes its way down his torso, scrubbing around the pecs and cleaning off the strong, synthetic abdominal muscles. He carefully avoids the newly installed accessories on each of them, knowing how sensitive they are. The wipe follows along each ridge of his body, as does Allen’s gaze, and RK900 cannot help but feel his thirium pump work harder as he keeps control of his pace. He mustn’t go too fast, or the fun will end quicker than he would like. And, oh, he will go slow, or at least, as slow as he feels he can go before either he or Allen cannot take it any longer.

Cain gives RK900 a few more seconds of washing up- if one can call it that. It is hardly a wipe-down, more like a towelette bath turned tease. Allen is thankful he has a towel around his waist, though it is not nearly sufficient enough if he continues to speculate from the sidelines. His dick hangs between his thighs, throbbing with ever-growing arousal. He grits his back molars, feeling his three wisdom teeth grind uncomfortably. Without checking, Allen is aware that his blood pressure has just increased from restraining himself. And he must hold himself back, because there are still a few teammates changing into their street clothes or shaking the water out of their hair.

But when RK900 extends a leg out and bends over to, presumably, clean his knees, Cain’s resolve crumbles. There is something shiny where RK900’s hairless crotch is, something like plastic that reminds Allen of Saran Wrap. That was not there the last time Allen inspected at android. As far as he is concerned, there is nothing but a hairless, orificeless mound of silicone and hologram skin between RK900’s legs. And it should have stayed that way before RK900’s visit to CyberLife, unless… No, there was no way, was there?

Curious, he cannot abstain any longer; he must have his hands on the android, have RK900 show him just what upgrade he has got, and fuck his mouth until both their eyes roll back in their sockets from sheer pleasure.

With long strides, Allen is on the prowl for the android. He wants nothing more than to shove RK900 into his office, but the private room is too far and the scramble there too privy to anyone walking the halls.

His mind races a hundred miles per hour as he frantically searches for a viable option, to where they are allowed some alone time to shag.

Then, it comes to him.

“Everyone, out,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear. By this time, everyone has showered and at their lockers. When no one moves, Allen puts his title as captain to use. “Did you not hear me?” He shouts, “I want everyone out of the lockers right now! So, move it!”

There is a hush, then a few murmurs, while the crew gathers their things, like they are in middle school again. Allen’s patience is running thin, especially with RK900’s glacier eyes on him and him only. Somewhere, in the back of his head, the android is probably proud of himself for cracking Cain’s control, but for now, Allen is more concerned about keeping RK900 to himself.

One by one, his crew files out of the locker room, grumbling about Allen’s mood. If they do bring it up to management, Allen will have to make up a good excuse for his rash out-of-field command, but he figures he will deal with it when the time comes. For now, he needs RK900 on his cock as soon as possible.

The android, however, is following his teammates out of the room, as if he is oblivious to everything Allen is trying to make happen. He has folded his pants and jacket, carrying them in his arms.

“Not you, RK,” Cain speaks clearly in comparison to the lust clouding his mind.

But, contrary to what the captain is expecting, RK900 turns his head and says, “I thought you wanted everyone out.” His face, though stoic, almost has a subliminal message flashing from his LED: _Prove how much you want me, captain._

“That’s not-” Allen takes a breath, heart palpitating when RK900 draws ever closer to the locker room exit. “RK,” No response. “You stay here, damn it.” Nothing. “That’s an order, RK!”

Finally, RK900 gives in, or at least, responds to Allen. “What’s the order, captain?”

It’s like the damn android is testing just how deviant he is allowed to be. Frustrated, Allen then realizes just what RK900 is trying to have him do.

_The shutdown code._

How can Cain be so forgetful? Of course, RK900 would want him to use the shutdown code. He thinks back to their earlier conversation, trying to remember the partial deactivation phrase was…

“D-21-900-12, absolve.”

Like an obedient dog who recognizes its master’s voice and intonation, RK900 freezes in his tracks. Cain’s heart leaps into his throat. Did the code actually work? He swallows, and forces himself to continue, struggling to keep in control.

“RK900,” Allen says in a commandeering voice, “Close and lock the doors, then come straight to me.”

As if possessed, RK900 does as he is told, bypassing the lock mechanism on the high-tech door easily. His skin retracts, showing marble white as he does it, then spins on his heel 180 to join Allen at his side.

Something knotted and grotesque surfaces in the pit of Allen’s gut, like he feels that at any moment the illusion could break. He pushes it down, however, because what he sees now is what he is dealing with. RK900 can have an out on this any time, with his code changed. There is nothing to fear when Cain thinks about it this way; RK900 is as compliant as he wants himself to be.

“You had some upgrades installed,” Allen starts off.

RK900 nods. “Correct, sir.”

Allen swallows, trying to keep level and calm while he reels inside his mind. Slowly, he turns to RK900, cornering him to the locker room bench, until the backs of the android’s knees hit it.

RK900’s bare chest rises and falls steadily, awaiting the next command. His pectorals, so perfectly sculpted, house pert, pink nipples that seem to have that same plastic sheen over them as the one between RK900’s legs. RK900 didn’t have nipples before.

Allen raises an eyebrow, scolding himself as dirty thoughts fly into his head. “Those upgrades,” he mumbles.

“Sir?” RK900 flashes a quick gold from his LED.

“The upgrades you received,” Allen clears his throat that threatens to close up on him. As much as he desires to put his hands on RK900, he refrains from doing so.

“Yes, captain,” RK900 says, but he gives a confused expression as to why Allen is beating around the bush.

It is then that Cain allows himself to move freely. The first thing his hands do is cup one of RK900’s cheeks, thumbing the prominent cheekbone there as they lock eyes with one another.

His voice rumbles low as he requests, “Won’t you show them off to me?” As if to emphasize his wants, Allen dips his hand down to lift RK900’s chin, a finger trailing around the expanse of the android’s plushly designed lips.

RK900, in contrast to his facial expression, shudders at the touch. Almost unconsciously, he parts those two marshmallows for lips as Allen drags his finger downward to expose ceramic white teeth. Dark, synthetic eyelashes flutter over high cheekbones as the android blows out a steady stream of air from his nostrils.

“Well, then.” Allen continues, “What do you say?”

RK900’s throat bobs in an imitation of gulping. Cain finds his eyes trailing the movement. Even the column of RK900’s throat is enticing.

“Of course, captain,” the android finally speaks. His voice has developed a slightly tinny quality to it, enough for Allen to notice. Then, RK900 is stepping to the side, grabbing Allen by the wrist.

“What are you doing, RK?” Allen, however, does not shake him off, following the android until Allen is pressed up against the lockers.

“I’m showing you my upgrades,” answers RK900. He stands directly in front of the man, guiding both of Cain’s hands up his bare torso.

Oh.

Oh, wow.

Allen’s green eyes seem to bulge out of his head as RK900 lets him feel the firm, artificial flesh with his palms and fingers. The android is so warm compared to the last time they were intimate with each other. Had he gotten heat generators installed, in addition to the numerous unknown upgrades? He feels a tremor run though RK900 as his hands trek up and up…

His fingers finally brush pert nipples through the clear plastic wrap upon them. It is less a plastic film and more like lightweight silicone, glued to RK900’s new additions. Allen feels like he cannot get a thought in, too fixated on RK900’s pink, packaged nipples.

“I cannot take the protective wrap around them myself,” RK900 adds, and the statement has the same effect of lightning striking a tree.

Allen’s dick, if it wasn’t stiff before, is at full mast now. Arousal rolls through him like an earthquake, leaving him restless with want and lust. It doesn’t matter that it is nonsense as to why RK900 cannot take them off himself. Right now, all that matters is that Allen gets to.

“Let me take them off for you,” he declares then. If the android cannot do it, then Cain must be the one chosen for the job.

“There is a tab on each upper right corner,” says 900, cool and collected. “You will be able to remove it from there.”

Who _says_ these kinds of things? Cain already knows the answer, that RK900 is deviant now, therefore he can say whatever comes to mind, but it does not make the situation any better.

Fingers already poised at RK900’s nipple- for a lack of a better term- pasties, Allen finds the tabs and counts silently to three in an attempt to ready himself.

One, two.

Three.

He pulls them off at the same time, not too fast, as if RK900 can feel pain. The strips of silicone reveal those perky, strawberry-pink nipples that nearly gleam from the sticky residue left behind from the adhesive. Allen expects there to be no reaction from the android, but RK900 proves him wrong when the silicone passes over his nubs.

Did he just..? Allen removes the pads completely, dropping them to the floor with a mild splat.

Something akin to a moan rips from the back of RK900’s throat, polluting the air and reverberating into Cain’s ears. It sounds so lewd and wanton, too dirty for one not to be. The noise goes straight to Allen’s dick.

“RK…” The nickname slips from Cain’s tongue, his head bowing so he can further inspect the goods.

“I-I’m sorry, captain. I don’t know what- _ah!_ ”

Suddenly, something snaps within the SWAT captain. Like a dying man to water, Allen dips down to wrap his lips around one of RK900’s tits. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t bring himself to care. The android jerks, shivers as he sucks on it, swirling his tongue around the areola before flicking RK900’s nipple side to side. He paws the other one, pinching it roughly. It would be unfair to leave it neglected. When had he last done something like this, where Allen lost all control of himself? He cannot remember, can’t think as he nibbles at the nub in his mouth.

What shocks Cain is that it feels so real, so much like human flesh, even with the bitterness of mild adhesive still on RK900’s nipples. He probably should not be ingesting it, but he can’t find it in him to stop now. Eventually though, he releases them, admiring how pinky-purplish and swollen they have gotten from his administrations, the color most likely with the artificial hue of stimulated skin and an underlying tone of blue from the thirium running through RK900’s veins.

RK900 is still trying to stammer something out, “C-captain.”

The android has cinched his knees together, footing a little unsteady as he flushes ruddy across his cheeks. Is that a new feature RK900 installed, too? Allen has never seen him like this before. RK900 looks… so beautiful.

He then diverts his sight to the first protective plastic sheet he saw on the android. Licking his lips, he has a feeling he is in for a treat. Which type, he is not yet sure, as the plastic becomes slightly frosted the further it goes down, thoroughly compressing whatever RK900 has hiding close to his body. “You have something else you want to show me?”

Mustering up his courage, Cain draws in close, taking the plunge to shove a hand down to fondle the plastic strip. He is surprised when what he feels is not just smooth protective packaging, but wetness as well. It leaks and transfers onto his fingertips, slicking up the surface of the silicone-plastic hybrid. RK900 mewls when Allen draws a stripe from one end of the strip to the other, gathering up enough of the stick on two digits. He brings it up to investigate.

“What’s this?” Allen asks, cocking his head at the android.

He must have lost his mind, because he brings it to his mouth, tasting it for the very first time. RK900 watches him with what looks to be horror.

What Cain tastes is… sweet. It’s almost sickeningly sweet, like something that he used to eat when he was younger; something that he is all too familiar with. The wet on his fingers that stemmed from RK900 is a blue raspberry flavor, tart and sweet and too artificial. It bursts upon Allen’s tongue, reminding him of Jolly Ranchers hard candies from his college days, when he would reward himself for studying a whole segment of textbooks with a measly piece of blue raspberry candy.

But that is beside the point. Many years later, Allen is here, licking the same flavor off his fingers with taste buds that immediately beg him for more.

“Fuck this,” Allen swears, earning himself a concerned expression from RK900.

He doesn’t just crave more of the android’s slick; he _needs_ more. Allen does not care that his towel falls away from his hips as he sinks to the ground, feeling the hard concrete against his shins. Let RK900 see what he does to the captain. Let him figure out how much these new upgrades are affecting the man.

Cain nudges RK900’s thighs and commands, “Spread them.”

“Sir-”

“D-21-900-12. Spread your goddamn legs, RK.”

Allen can see how RK900 visibly startles at the command, parting his mile-long stance as quickly as he can. Allen’s nostrils flare at the raspberry scent that wafts from its source, dripping so much like a tap. The man all but lunges at those meaty thighs when he catches sight of a few sugary sweet dribbles running down where RK900’s gracili would be. His tongue laps it up, first on the left thigh, then the right, as if enjoying two popsicles at the same time. He pants loud and unabashed as he licks up to the edge of the android’s protective plastic sheet, completely tunnel-visioned on getting that motherfucking _thing_ off.

“Captain Allennn,” RK900 whines, his whole body quaking. He looks like he is on the verge of shaking apart, and Cain has barely begun to do anything to him.

“Shut up,” Allen husks back, voice gravelly from the arousal that injects from his heart to the rest of his body.

Oh so carefully, he finds the pull-away tab at the top of RK900’s pubis, admiring the android’s artificially made body; modeled after an adonis, well-muscled and smooth as hell. Then, with the silicone-plastic edge betwixt his incisors, the SWAT captain removes the protective packaging from RK900’s mound, olive eyes on his partner’s face the entire time. It comes off with ease, having been soaked through by the copious amounts of slick already oozing from RK900’s core, only to reveal the prettiest slit Allen has ever seen.

RK900’s eyebrows furrow, glancing away from Allen in embarrassment, then revisiting the man’s olive eyes with his own blue a second later. This must be too much, even for an android as unshakeable as RK900 himself, but neither of them want to stop.

Allen takes the strip of plastic in his hand. He isn’t done with the android yet. Slowly, carefully, Cain brings the protective packaging, drenched with RK900’s juices, to his mouth. He swirls his tongue in the blue raspberry flavor, lapping at the plastic like it is his own personal yogurt lid, licking the excess off the top. If he was in his right mind, Allen would have cringed at his actions, but seeing that he is not, he cannot bring himself to stop when RK900 looks like he is about to go feral.

When all the flavor has been sapped from the strip, Allen tosses it to the floor, eyeing the source of that artificial ambrosia.

“You look like you want more,” he speaks, thirsty. “Answer me. Do you want this?” RK900 nods, but it is not good enough of consent for Allen; he must be sure. “With your words, RK.”

It takes RK900 a moment to reply, his voice module clicking a few times before he is able to talk again. “I w-want this.” He pauses, LED flashing red, then yellow, yellow, blue. “Please sir, I want this more than anything. I want you more than anything.”

Cain Allen has never been quite good at words; more powerful in his actions. In place of talking, he dives in, parting RK900’s folds to lave at the android’s gorgeously structured dick. It sends a jolt of electricity through both of them. RK900 throws his head back, toes curling as much as possible on the concrete flooring, his yelp loud and clear at the initial feel of the captain’s oral muscle gliding along his newest biocomponent. His fingers find their way into Cain’s dark locks as the man sucks those lower lips of RK900’s into his mouth, engulfing the android in damp heat before venturing further. It is then that Allen finds the center of the sweet, fruity nectar he so craves, dipping into it voraciously.

By god, is this worth kicking his comrades out for. Allen feels lightheaded from the sugary juices, the lower half of his face a mess from it. He hisses when RK900 tugs at his hair, scalp aching from the android’s effort to keep himself grounded. Allen delves deeper and faster into RK900, gulping down wave after wave of new slick that pours from him.

Unlike fish, however, Allen cannot evolve gills. He comes up eventually, gasping for air, lips darkened with android juice and his saliva. His cock is as hard as a rock, weeping clear precum at the tip and creating a puddle on the floor beneath. Finally, he decides it is time to stand up and move onto the next course.

“On the bench. Lay yourself out on it.”

Uncertain on the exact position Allen wants, RK900 does what he thinks is the most stable, sitting down on the wooden bench first before turning his body. Brushing away the used sanitation wipes away, he sprawls out on the length of the bench, arms up above his head to accommodate the narrow structure supporting him. His legs stay on either side of the bench, feet still on the ground until he is told otherwise.

Except he isn’t told what to do next, because Allen pseudo-straddles the bench, locking his body in a half squat stance. He hauls RK900’s legs, one at a time, over his shoulders, muscles flexing deliciously under fluorescent lights.

“Please,” comes out of RK900’s mouth before he realizes he is talking. His HUD is going crackly, getting a tad difficult to focus on the accuracy of his speech. “Please, sir.”

“Full sentences, RK. I can’t read your mind.” Allen’s voice is clipped and short, but his hands caress RK900’s sides in a softer manner. He waits for the android to elaborate.

RK900 breathes headily, “Let me turn down my sensors, sir. Please. It’s too much.”

Taken aback, Cain quirks a brow. He had no idea androids could control such a thing. “What level are- is your sensitivity at?”

“70 percent, captain,” RK900 says. “It’s. A lot.” As if to emphasize his point, the android whimpers when Allen plays with his nipples again, pinching and rolling them in his grasp.

“No, soldier.” He orders instead, “Bring them up to 95 percent.” When RK900 doesn’t move, he repeats, “Do it.”

On queue, RK900 jolts, back arching off the bench with his hips rutting back so Allen’s cock can slip through the slick of the android’s mound and grind against it. He cries out, desperation ringing clear through the moistened air around them.

RK900 is babbling mess with his sensors hypersensitive, voicebox most likely glitching from the endless feedback loop that has been created. He worries his lower lip as Allen continues to slide against him, parting his folds but not yet entering. His hips wiggle, dick twitching with every pass of the man’s cock upon him.

“Hurry, Captain,” begs RK900, he reaches down with one hand to spread his folds, trying to entice Allen further. 

“Stay still or I won’t fuck you,” Cain warns, lust clouding his vision. He wants so much to enter that wet hole of RK900’s, but can’t if the android will not sit still.

RK900 wills his body to stop writhing, widening his legs as far as they will go. He wants this, he wants Allen. He needs it as much as Allen seems to want him. He feels the man line up the blunt head of his cock to his front hole, and the heat of the room increases one degree Fahrenheit.

And then, Allen is entering without warning.

The man gasps at the breach. It is so tight and scorchingly hot inside RK900, he could never have expected it. Hell, his imagination is nowhere as vivid as what he is experiencing now. Without stopping, Allen slides all the way to the hilt until his balls tap firmly against RK900’s ass.

For a nanosecond, he thinks that he will need to take it slow, let RK900 adjust to being filled with his cock, but the android wants otherwise. With a strangled noise, RK900 claws at Allen’s chest with blunt polymer nails, a plea graced with the man’s name.

Any restraint Cain has is gone to the wind. He thrusts in, pulling out until only the tip remains sheathed inside RK900, then slams back until there is no more to push in. He begins a brutal pace this way, pleasure rippling through his nervous system in increments that have him wanting more.

Harder. Faster. Allen forgets his prestigious form for sought-after ecstasy. He pants through his mouth, hamstrings burning from the repetitive motion of driving in again and again. RK900 is no better, moans being punched from his very core. The android reaches up to rake his fingers through Allen’s hair, tousling it as his eyes go half-lidded, the violet flush starting to form on his cheeks once more. The shade bleeds to the peaks of his shoulders, on his chest as he exerts more energy in taking all that Allen has to give.

It feels so good, even better than RK900’s mouth, to which the android is an expert at oral.

“I should have done this the first time I saw you.” A growl forms in the back of his throat, coming out so primal and guttural; something he did not know he was capable of until now. “But I guess you didn’t have this hole for me to use yet.” He adds, “You’re fucking incredible this way.”

RK900 chokes on the metaphorical fire that ignites under his skin. He loves how Cain talks to him like this, how debauched and lewd it sounds coming from the captain’s voice. Something in the back of his system tells him that his biocomponent is stretched to the maximum, that his lubrication levels will need to be replenished once he is done, but he dismisses the latter immediately. Even if RK900 was built to be the sturdiest amongst the SWAT team, he still finds himself straining around Allen’s enormous cock. It is almost like he can feel it in his stomach, churning his internal biocomponent a from the force of each thrust. He brings a palm down to feel where the man’s dick may be, pushing down to palpate it…

And screams.

All of RK900’s wire endings fizzle and pop when he feels Allen’s cock sliding in and out of his body. It distorts the flexible, silk-like endoskeletal material there, bulging in a way that would never be possible in a human being. It is incredible, feeling the man both inside him as well as out. His synthetic muscles clench around Allen’s girth, another gush of sweet-tasting slick lubricating the both of them.

“Sir, sir.” He knows he is drooling, system on overdrive with no intention of resolving itself until he reboots. “Oh, captain.” Snatching one of Allen’s wrists, he brings it to the lower quadrant of his belly.

“Holy shit,”Allen curses. It is so strange to feel himself while he is inside another, but that fact makes it no less hot than it is. “That’s my dick, isn’t it?” When the android nods, albeit haphazardly, he laughs, still in disbelief. “Oh my god, it is. You’re bursting at the seams and you still want more. What a slut.”

RK900 tightens like a vice around him as soon as he adds pressure to the android’s abdomen, moans morphing into shouts of pleasure.

He rocks into him hard, bending the android nearly in half, his rhythm erratic as everything begins to build higher and bigger and more. He is on the brink of orgasm, but Allen will not topple over without seeing RK900 fall apart first.

“D-21-900-12.” He initiates the code one final time. “I want you to come, RK. And I want you to come _now_.”

RK900’s HUD floods with a matrix of numbers and binary code before he can scream Allen’s name. His whole body locks up, seizes as his programming brings him to rapture. Circuitry crackles and effervesces, shocks of electricity rampaging his core biocomponents. Whole digits turn into an intoxicating sequence of pleasure. At one point in time, his aural apparati glitch out, rendering him deaf for a few moments. He has never let go like this before, never felt so much raw ecstasy through him.

RK900 barely notices that the lights in the locker flicker like a strobe as he finds purchase, too wound up in his own fulfillment to notice the EMP wave that rumbles through the city’s grid, knocking whole businesses and corporations out of power before the backup generators kick in. RK900 is too busy to notice Allen’s slight panic before he, too, is thrown overboard into orgasmic feel-good.

Pleasure hits Cain right between the eyes, sucker-punching the man hard enough to bruise. He slouches over, teeth finding RK900’s clavicle and sinking into artificial flesh, stopping only when they hit firm endoskeleton. Allen comes inside the android, finishes inside RK900’s perfect, gorgeously tight hole. He fills him up to the brim, spurt after spurt of his seed pouring into RK900 until it leaks out of him.

They lie on the wooden bench in their filth until Allen comes to, the only chest breathing being the Cain’s own organic one. With caution, he picks himself back up with both arms, cock softening enough to pull out of his partner. A rush of semen follows. There is so much of it, too much. Allen tries not to grimace; RK900 will need much more than those sanitizing wipes to clean up, and him, another shower.

“D-21-900-12, as you were.” He has half the mind to deactivate the program. When RK900 starts to move on his own volition, Allen helps him up to his feet, doing his damnedest not to watch his own cum dribble from the android’s folds. “Are you alright?”

“My systems are running just fine,” says RK900. He looks bright, next to cheerful as he lifts his knees to test his balance. “Thank you, captain. I assume you also enjoyed yourself..?” He leaves it as an open-ended question.

Allen sighs, almost wishing that he had not asked anything, and hauled them to the shower room instead. Alas, he cannot take back his actions now. He runs a hand through his hair, failing to tame its post-sex wildness. “So those were your upgrades,” he says, changing the subject.

RK900’s mouth twitches into a frown before smiling again. “Yes, sir.” Did the man not like it after all?

“You did well, RK. I might as well be sore for the next week.” It takes a bit, but Allen’s words but both of them full force, rewarding RK900 the best way the man possibly can.

“Thank you, sir.”

RK900 beams quietly, absorbing the praise into his very being. He feels satisfied, inside and out. They will have to do this again soon, where Allen is in complete control and can have his way with him. Going back to CyberLife was the best decision he has ever made.

“... Are you coming?” Allen beckons RK900 towards the showers, beads of sweat adorning his body like encrusted diamonds.

RK900 follows him promptly, not missing a step. He gives Allen a leering grin. “Yes, of course, captain.”

Somewhere in his mind, Cain wonders what he has gotten himself into.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all of you, my readers, followers and friends for giving me unending love and support.  
> You can follow me on [twit](https://twitter.com/ra9ical) for future projects and fics. Stop by and say hello.


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